


On the Way!

by Vander38



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 02:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30031536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vander38/pseuds/Vander38
Summary: The gunner has always said “on the way!” It is both a warning to their own to stay clear and a promise to the enemy that it is coming for them.And when it really matters, when everything is on the line.You need a very good gunner.
Relationships: Male Shepard/Tali'Zorah nar Rayya
Kudos: 1





	On the Way!

Tikkun  
Close orbit Rannoch  
Normandy SR2

All eyes are locked to computer monitors in the odd silence of a starship at war.

“Helm to Bombardier, you have the con.” Joker says aloud in the formal acknowledgment of the control handover.

Three kilometres of cabling away in the gun room another pair of eyes are glued to several screens.

“I have the con.” The Bombardier’s voice is one of those calming voices, steady and rich and soothing, a billion kilometres from the valleys of Carmarthenshire but never losing home.

The kind of voice you want to hear at times of great stress.

The Bombardier opens a special screen, reserved only for ship to surface engagements.

A pov crosshair springs to life, moving in sickening leaps and bounds as down below, far from the air conditioned gun room of Normandy, a man fights for his life, his love and for history itself.

A red button next to the screen flashes and the Bombardier’s finger presses it.

“On the way!” The Bombardier says in the age old traditions of the gunner.

Normandy shakes violently as her guns, more powerful than anyone can believe, fire out.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

Twenty kilogram slugs burn through the atmosphere at three percent of lightspeed.

They hit the ground with 38 kilo tons of force, a great spray of earth, slagged sand and dust shoots up.

The button flashes once more, is pressed once more.

“On the way!”

The ship shakes again.

Another twenty seconds pass, another dust storm.

Radio’s squall and squawk as voices chatter. 

“More ships coming into our target synchronisation network.” The ever calm voice of the ship computer rings out in the gunroom.

The button flashes red, is pressed.

“On the way!”

A squawk, an alarm, an error on screen.

“Switching to backup trigger, main firing is out.” The Bombardier calls out for the coms.

A hatch below the floor plate retracts, another trigger button below the foot.

The screen pulses, flashing target locks.

“On the way!”

Normandy shakes, the guns quiver, the slugs hit dirt.

More target locks, more red flashes, more trigger presses.

“On the way!”

More clouds of dust fill the crosshair screen, the shadow of death looming through the sand and slag.

Another target lock.

Another screen flash.

Again.

Again.

The button ignored as the Bombardier takes the coms.

“Sammy girl, I need you to put me through to the Commander, can you do that for me now?” The Bombardier’s voice is calm.

“Yes.” The communication specialist’s voice is less calm but she pulls through.

The Bombardier’s foot dances above the trigger as a knee bounces in an uncontrollable tic.

“Shepard boy, Bombardier here, I need you to settle your aim now.” The Bombardier says conversationally.

“Shoot the bastard!” The Commander shouts into his coms, a squeal of static to match.

“I’m trying to now, it’s not that easy when you’re moving so much isn’t it?” The Bombardier replies like a comment on the weather.

“You’d be moving as well when you have a Reaper to kill!” The words come fast, breaking in stress as a great static burst rings through.

“Shepard boy, I have a reaper to kill now, as do you, so take a moment to breathe and listen now, you have everything you need.” The Bombardier says, eyes locked on the screen.

“I have a targeting laser!” Shepard explodes in rare anger.

“Yes and I have my right foot.” The Bombardier says gently.

There is a silence over the coms between the two of them.

One of those silences that follow a strange statement on a battlefield.

Not a true silence of course but one where two people share something that neither can quite understand.

“What?” Shepard says.

“Shepard boy, under my right foot now I have a trigger connected to eighty eight Quarian ships guns, I have at my disposal more firepower than God, so I need you to stay calm now.” The Bombardier says patiently.

“Calm! Calm! My balls are on the line here, you’ve got more power than God, all I got is a laser pointer!” Shepard shouts back, voice on the edge of panicking madness.

“No Shepard boy, you have a Laser Target Painter Mark III, it is connected to my target system with a hardened lock, they cannot be separated now so I aim where you do, don’t I?” The Bombardier explains.

A silence over the coms.

“The Mark III weighs three point nine four kilograms, the same as your rifle isn’t it?” The Bombardier continues.

Heavy breathing rushes through the coms speakers from Shepard.

“Take a hold of your weapon now Shepard, that’s it now, easy as pointing your hand now.” The Bombardier says in soothing instructions, as if to a raw recruit far from home.

“Good Shepard, that’s good, now, I need you to aim for me now, there is a Mark seventeen optic on that device, place that on the target for me now.”

The screen still jumps around as Shepard breathes hard but the crosshairs begin highlighting the Rannoch Reaper in a twenty second predictive target solution.

“Shepard boy are you there now?” The Bombardier asks calmly.

“I’m here!” His voice comes through, more calmly now, scared like a recruit but far from that panicked edge.

“Good now, good, I need you to calm that shaking now, can you take a deep breath for me now?” The Bombardier asks firmly but gently.

“That’s it Shepard boy, easy as breathing, in and out, smoothly now.” The Bombardier says softly.

The Rannoch Reaper fills the crosshair screen, two hundred meters of cephalopod styled warship, against a man just below two meters tall.

“Shepard if you could aim just a little lower now?” The Bombardier says, watching the GUI point of aim on the screen move down.

“That’s it there now.” The Bombardier says in gentle urgency.

The crosshairs settle on the weak point of the armoured ship.

“Under your finger now there is a button, it will take 763 grams to depress it, same as your rifle trigger, can you feel that now?” The Bombardier says in patient instruction.

“Yes I feel it.” Shepard replies more calmly .

Great doors that conceal ship killer weapons begin to move.

“Okay Shepard boy, I need you to squeeze that button and hold it, that will lock in the target solution for me up here.” The Bombardier says gently.

“Shepard steady a moment, just calibrating all ships' aim.” The Bombardier says ina gentle explanation as the screen pulses updates as more ships, a hundred kilometres of space between each, shift tons of guns to hit a tiny target as the weapon doors open.

“Steady now boy.” The Bombardier says.

Ship killers glow red in their bays.

The foot dances above the trigger.

Air shimmers even through the screen.

“Steady now.” The Bombardier says.

Pulses flash faster, ever faster.

“Steady.” The voice is as calm as still water in the moonlight.

Red flash.

“On the way!”


End file.
